


most ardently

by neroh



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic, Tumblr, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 21:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3356717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neroh/pseuds/neroh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's their first Valentine's Day together and Jim is determined to crack Bones' anti-commercial romance stance, even if it kills him.  He's certain his plan would have worked (quiet candlelit dinner, a stroll along the piers, followed by wild sex) if he hadn't gone to the children's library to read to the kids. </p><p>Jim gets sick and whines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	most ardently

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mangochi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangochi/gifts).



> I wrote this for Mango, who I'm always torturing through Tumblr. 
> 
> This is unbeta'd.

It's their first Valentine's Day together and Jim is determined to crack Bones' anti-commercial romance stance, even if it kills him. 

He's certain his plan would have worked (quiet candlelit dinner, a stroll along the piers, followed by wild sex) if he hadn't gone to the children's library to read to the kids. Not that Jim doesn't like kids; he _loves_ kids, especially since he's an overgrown one according to Bones. It's a Starfleet promotional thing that they are having him do and he's the only captain that actually likes to participate.

No— _that_ part is fine. It's the stomach flu he caught from some germy six-year-old that has him quite put out.

Actually, put out doesn't even begin to describe the misery Jim finds himself in. Puking his guts out and sleeping in the bathroom is more accurate. Plus the other weird things his body is doing is _fucking phenomenal_.

"Darlin'," Bones sighs after the hundredth time he's thrown up (this time in the sink because Jim was in the shower and couldn't make it to the toilet). He's rubbing slow, comforting circles on his back and basically keeping him upright.

And not in the wild sex, romantic way.

"I hate kids," Jim mutters after he's swished water, toothpaste, and mouthwash.

Bones chuckles as he reaches for the mess of hair that is falling in his eyes. "You don't hate kids," he says, leading Jim back towards their bed.

Jim grunts. "You're right," he agrees. It's sad that he's so relieved to be back in bed and fully clothed. "I just hate the kid who got me sick. And their parents. I hope they get Andorian Shingles and are allergic to the anti-nausea hypo."

"First of all," Bones begins to explain as he tucks Jim into bed. "Andorian Shingles doesn't cause nausea." He fluffs his boyfriend's pillow and strokes his hair as Jim lies down. "And we'll just wait out the worse of it, okay?"

Jim huffs incoherently and silently curses his rotten luck of being deathly allergic to the aforementioned anti-nausea hypo. "I'm suffering, Bones," he whines into his pillow. "And I smell like vomit."

"You don't smell like vomit," the doctor laughs.

He cracks open an eye, scowling. "You're right. I smell like failed aspirations and dead baby Cupids!"

"No," Bones groans. The corners of his lips are quirked and Jim can spy his boyfriend's dimples forming. "You smell like that body wash you always use." He leans over to kiss the younger man on his forehead. "And Old Spice Deodorant."

Jim nuzzles Bones and closes his eyes. "Is this a kink of yours? Smelling people," he asks, half-expecting a swat to his arm.

Instead, Bones kicks off his shoes and gets into bed alongside Jim, acting as the big spoon. He presses soft pecks against the back of the younger man's neck and rests a hand on his hip. "No," Bones finally says. "Just appreciating the nuisances."

"I wanted to take you out for dinner," Jim huffs. "And do all that romantic shit that you're supposed to do today, except for the chocolates. You would probably lose it if I gave you a box of them and start going on about cholesterol."

A puff of warm breath curls over his skin and Bones is snorting back laughter, or at least attempting to. "We don't do romantic, Jim," he tells him.

"I _know_ that, but..."

"I am perfectly fine with watching you run between here and the bathroom, making you tea and broth, replicating the good ginger ale, and lying around in bed while you nap," Bones says. His fingers sneak under Jim's t-shirt and crawl to his stomach, where the doctor lays his hand flat and starts to rub the younger man's belly. "I know that you love me regardless of a stupid national holiday and I love you even if you're throwing up every forty-five minutes."

Jim smiles. "That's oddly romantic, Bonesy," he murmurs. "I still hate kids."

"Okay."

"And reading to them."

"I _completely_ understand, darlin'."

Satisfied, Jim closes his eyes and snuggles against Bones. He allows himself to enjoy the warmth of his boyfriend's hand against his stomach and the soft touches as he rubs the area. "I like belly rubs though," he says sleepily.

"I know, darling," Bones whispers. "I know."


End file.
